


Sinner's Dance

by LaughingFreak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Consensual, Father/Son Incest, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-22 06:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingFreak/pseuds/LaughingFreak
Summary: Dean becomes what John needs and things become more between them. Sam doesn’t approve.





	Sinner's Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, a lot of the fics out there for this pairing are John being an asshole or manipulating Dean into things, but I wanted something different. This is my different. It's no less fucked up (it's incest, so it's always going to be fucked up), but there's love and affection and understanding.
> 
> I hope you like and don't burn me at the stake for it.

For as long as Sam could remember Dean had always been there, taking care of him and their dad. It was almost, well, practically, his second job in the family. Almost the most important job his brother has ever had in life.

Keeping the family together and keeping the peace.

However much Sam loved Dean, he was the best brother anyone could ask for in a life like theirs, it pissed him off how much Dean bends over backwards for their dad. How he takes ever order from him without question. He hates how submissive Dean is with dad. It wasn’t right.

But neither was it right for what he saw go on between them as he was growing up. It was something he saw now as the two stood close, pressed against each other out of sight of other prying eyes, Dean relieved and relaxed.

Sam clenched his fists and looked away.

* * *

It was at seventeen when Dean and John began their new relationship. Granted, it wasn’t something that Dean had planned or even wanted for that matter, but when John came in drunk and messed up he decided to deal with it. It wasn’t the way he should’ve dealt with it, not by a long shot, but when he looked at John? He saw his father broken and worn and a man that needed to have something good to cling to at night. Something to keep him grounded.

Because his sons weren’t enough and couldn’t fill that void of what he needed by his side.

And when he was drunk or hungover and had trouble controlling himself Dean saw the looks that the man gave him. The way that John watched him and how his eyes lit up in desire when he was half dressed. How they lit with affection and adoration when he took care of where they made their home for whatever short period of time they stayed in a place. How even when they hunted together he became even more fiercely protective than he had ever been before.

So Dean put on his brave face and went to sit next to his dad on the dingy motel couch and said, “Dad, let me help you.”

Sam wasn’t there at the moment, having decided to stay at a friend’s house (it took a lot of persuading on Dean’s part to make it happen and John only agreed after Dean had went to check the friend, the family, and the house, then making sure that Sam had something to protect him with hidden on his person just in case). This was the as good a time as any considering that they live on top of each other.

John didn’t even look at him. “I’m fine. Go to sleep, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t going to beat around the bush on this; he was just going to jump the cliff headfirst. He put his hand on his thigh, “I’m not blind, dad. I know.” He squeezed his thigh. “And I’m willing to.”

The pained look on his dad’s face hurt for Dean to see. John ran his hands down his face, tired and disgusted with himself and Dean only became more resolute in his decision. The patriarch’s temper was a thing that many didn’t want to behold and with the drinking it’s been nearly getting out of control.

Dean leaned in; kissed John’s jaw then the corner of his mouth and the older man closed his eyes and moved his lips to capture Dean’s in a kiss. The kiss was hesitant for a mere moment before the younger Winchester deepened, getting onto the older one’s lap. Dean urged John more, grinding their pelvis’ together and earning a deep groan from the man beneath him. Large, strong hands clasped onto his hips and pressed them tight together as John took control.

The kiss became hungry, starved even, like a man tasting water for the first time after being depraved of it in the desert for years. Dean wrapped his arms around his neck and grabbed onto long strands of hair, gripping them tightly.

They broke apart and John ran his hands beneath Dean’s shirt, caressing heated skin, and kissed along his jaw and throat before mumbling in a wretched voice, “You-We shouldn’t…”

Dean shifted his hips against his, their erections feeling pleasurable friction. “Just take me, make me yours.” He lifted his chin so their eyes met, stroking his chin. “Let me take care of you.”

And John brought him in for a reverent kiss, filled with love and adoration, and Dean practically melted and filled himself with everything John Winchester. Father. Protector. Hunter. Man.

Dean will take in everything that is John Winchester: the good, the bad, the unhealthy, everything. He will take care of him and love him and keep him sane and alive.

This Dean promised himself.

* * *

Sam noticed the change almost immediately, knew that something was different about his brother and dad. It didn’t take a genius and it only took him a few weeks to do so. But it was the little things that he noticed within the first several days; he just didn’t connect the dots.

He noticed that John watched Dean in a way he never saw him do so before. Noticed that they spoke privately to each other more, heads leaned in close and doing so in whispers when he was in the room or in hearing range. The lingering touches that would’ve been innocent any other time if not for how long the contact lasted.

The softness in his father’s face as he and Dean spoke, even when talking about a job, something he hadn’t seen of his dad in a long time.

He was fourteen. He wasn’t stupid.

It was a few months before he brought it up and it was only after he saw his dad’s hand on the small of Dean’s back, hand going to his going to his hip.

“What’s going on between you two?” he asked stepping between them, glaring at his dad. There was something wrong with the way he was touching Dean, his son.

John tensed up and closed his eyes, moving away a few steps from his oldest son, his partner. His lover. The look on his face was pained. He was about to open his mouth in a vague answer when Dean intervened.

“Let’s talk, Sammy.” Sam narrowed his eyes and watched Dean and John share a look before John nodded and left the motel, leaving the two brothers alone. There was something weird about the look they shared between them.

The two went to sit at the table and Sam stared at his older brother intently. His mind raced. The way the two looked at each other moments ago showed that what he was seeing from his father was not one-sided, it was a consensual thing. That couldn’t be true. Dean liked women and respected their father; he would never step into the territory of incest with their father.

His brother wasn’t stupid.

“Sammy, I need you to listen. What’s going on between dad and I isn’t any sort of abuse like you’re thinking.”

The younger Winchester narrowed his eyes and said, “He’s touching you, Dean, and it’s not okay.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, he’s touching me and I’m touching him. It’s consensual and I was the one that started it.”

“Why? This isn’t okay! You’re his son!” Sam shouted. All the little things he saw from the past several weeks, even if mostly small, bothering him and coming to a head.

“I know that, Sammy, but you’re so angry with dad that you don’t see how broken he is and is only held together by the revenge he seeks. He needs something to hold onto and if being his lover helps him then that’s what I’ll be.” Dean never looked away from his little brother as he spoke and Sam could see the resolve and how set he was.

He made a face and shook his head, not accepting this new fact of life. Dean was his brother and he wouldn’t put himself into something like this; he was smarter than that. Sam refused to believe that his older brother was okay with this. Okay with being with another man. If the man hadn’t been their father he wouldn’t care, as long as Dean was happy he’d be happy for him. But this wasn’t just any man, it was their father.

It was incest. It was wrong.

“But do you want this?” Sam asked as he glared at his brother.

“I’m doing what I have to do,” was the answer he got. That answer did not make him feel better.

* * *

It was tense for a while. That tense atmosphere had John pulling away from his oldest son, shame and anger at himself consuming him. It was something that Dean noticed right away and he was not going to have it.

So after dropping Sammy off to school he went back to the motel they were staying at right now, ready to confront the man. He knew Sam wasn’t going to like it, he knew that, that’s part of the reason the two wanted to keep it between them. Their relationship was going to cause problems that their small family really did not need. Life was hard enough on them already and they had more enemies than friends, they didn’t need to have friction between them.

But Dean didn’t regret starting what he has with John. When they started this the man was barely holding it together, but now he was much more stable and clear headed. He almost seemed content, enough to relax at times even if it was not often. This relationship gave John someone to depend on emotionally.

And it gave Dean the relief that his father was more stable and he wouldn’t lose him.

He entered the motel. John stood when he saw him, grabbing his own set of keys to take the impala. Probably to go off by himself, find something to hunt. Ever since Sammy found out about them he’s been trying to avoid being alone with Dean.

“I’m going out. I may have found a hunt, I’m going to do a little research. We might have to leave when Sammy gets out,” said the man, walking past Dean and to the door.

“Understood.” Just as John was reaching for the door Dean spoke back up. “John, it’s been three weeks, we need to talk.”

The man paused, shoulders tensing and Dean wanted nothing more than to press himself against his back and hold him. That was going to have to wait.

It was quiet between them for long moments before John finally turned to face his oldest son. “Dean—”

“Do you want to stop?” It was rare for him to interrupt his father when he was speaking, but he wanted to get to the heart of the matter. Usually, he would try to avoid talking about feelings, but he knew John and John did not allow Dean to pussyfoot around with him.

John stared at him. He stared at him and Dean could see the battle he was fighting with himself. There was guilt and shame and anger, but also love and desire. He knew those emotions on the older man’s face, knew them well. Those emotions reflected back his own.

If John was a sick man, then Dean probably was too, but he was not going to let the man fall.

Shame and desire came at the forefront as John finally answered. “No.”

Dean walked up to John and brought him in for a kiss, slow and lingering. John’s body relaxed as he fell into the kiss. When they pulled away Dean said, “Then don’t cut me out like that. If you want to end it then you need to tell me, but if not then you need to talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” John croaked, pained.

Dean only kissed him again. He knows.

* * *

For as long as he watched it go on it didn’t sit with Sam any better than it first did. It’s not that they were on each other when he was around, they barely touched one another in his presence, but he saw the looks. He saw the way his dad looked at Dean and the way Dean looked at their dad, the desire they both had that made him queasy and want to throw up. No matter what Dean said it wasn’t okay, even if consensual.

It wasn’t something he could watch anymore. Every time he saw his dad he wanted to punch him in the face, anger coursing through his veins. Sam wanted to shake some sense into Dean because someone had to.

Sam put in his application for Harvard last week and if all went well he’ll be leaving in the next few months. No one knew and they weren’t going to until he was ready.

At least this way he didn’t have to see this so called relationship that his dad and brother were a part of.

* * *

Late nights out drinking were becoming less and less common with John and it was something that lit Dean up with satisfaction. For the longest time, as long as Dean could remember from the time of the fire till now, the older man was half drowning in a bottle unless there was a hunt. It was the man’s escape and it numbed his pain, but also gave him a temper if he was approached in a way he didn’t like. John wasn’t abusive, but he wasn’t exactly enjoyable to be around either.

More often than not now if there wasn’t a hunt or he wasn’t so deep into the dark parts of his mind then John was with Dean. The drinking didn’t stop, being a hunter like they were didn’t allow you to be without a drink after all the things they saw on a regular basis, but he didn’t get shitfaced drunk anymore.

It was nice.

Sam didn’t spend much time with their dad, not after that talk they had and how he thoroughly disagreed and made it known that he did, but Dean did. Dean saw a lot and took care of what he could.

But he also just enjoyed having the older man around outside of hunts and training.

Like right now, he was doing the dishes up from dinner, Sammy gone to go to the library, and pressed flush against his back was John. John’s arms were wrapped around his naked waist as his lips and teeth worked the juncture of his neck, large hands running up from his stomach to his chest.

Dean panted, gripping the wash rag and plastic plate with white knuckles, then groaned when John gave another shallow thrust and grazed his prostate. His grip never loosened on either object in his hands as he held himself up on the counter with bottom of his palms and pressing his ass back to rock against him.

“You’re beautiful, Dean,” whispered John, low enough that Dean almost didn’t hear it over his own panting.

John sucked on the skin and Dean groaned and tilted his head back. “John, come on…you’re killing me here.”

The chuckle that released against his skin made him shiver and he closed his eyes. John laughing in any way was a luxury on the best of days and it always left him waiting to hear more. “Finish the dishes, Dean.”

Another shallow thrust. “Kinda…hard to do that…with your dick distracting me…”

The older man hummed and gave a deeper thrust this time. “I know you can handle both, you’re too good.” John turned Dean’s head to kiss his lips. “You’re my good boy, strong and talented. Prove me right, Dean, show me how good you are.”

Dean whined and his body shook at the deep and hard thrust that the older man gave, one of the large hands grabbing onto Dean’s leaking cock.

Sometimes the two of them were rough and other times it was slow and sensual, but Dean valued either one he got from the man. This time it was John taking his time, praising him and kissing him as he took the younger hunter against the sink counter.

He loved it. He loved him.

Dean was in love.

* * *

It was when John was sitting at the table with a beer in their rundown hotel for the hunt that John noticed. On one of the beds was occupied by his eldest son cleaning their guns and weapons while Sam was lying down on the couch watching TV. It was a normal evening in, nothing out of the ordinary or extraordinary beyond comprehension.

They were just in a beaten down motel in the outskirts of a small town, a stop between their former hunt to Bobby’s house. The same shitty food and cheap beer that they had at every place they’re at for a moment. The same routine that he and his family followed and been following for several months.

But it was just that evening that something just clicked.

Dean was beautiful and not because he reminded him of Mary, no. Dean was beautiful because he was now a man that had grown into himself and knew who he was and what he wanted.

It was at that moment, when Dean looked up and smiled at him, eyes shining in a mischievous light, that though he was his son and he knew that he saw a man.

John saw a man that he was falling in love with.

* * *

Dean stood stock still as the screaming continued.

Harvard. Sammy was going to Harvard.

Sammy was _leaving_ them.

He clenched his fists to stop them from visibly shaking. Both men were not budging from their decisions and it only got worse as the argument continued.

“I’m going whether you like it or not! I’m eighteen now, you can’t control me anymore!” yelled Sam, body tense and ready to fight and take down John.

“It’s too damn dangerous to be out on your own!” John yelled back. “I am your father and I’ve done my best by you and I know what’s best for you!”

“Oh, some father you are because apparently what’s best is fucking your own son! You’re sick! I’m better off without you! I can handle myself!”

Dean quickly got between the two men, to stop their approach to each other. They were far too close to throwing punches for Dean’s tastes. It hurt to hear the words that Sammy spat with such venom, but he wasn’t going to let it stop him from letting them make each other bleed.

“You watch your mouth, boy!”

They both stepped forward, but were stopped by Dean putting a hand to each of their chests. Beneath his palms Dean can feel both their accelerated heart rates and the rage bubbling in his brother’s chest. He needed to de-escalate the situation.

Dean opened his mouth, but clammed up in shock when Sammy swatted his hand from his chest, as if burned, and glared at him.

“Don’t touch me!” yelled Sammy. His eyes held anger and resentment, disgust and disappointment. He’s never looked at him like that before.

Those words made something die inside Dean and the emotions that resided in his little brother’s eyes were like a punch to the gut.

Sammy hated him.

Sammy_ hated _him!

The yelling didn’t stop, but Dean didn’t move; he felt like he was breaking, that his family was falling into little little pieces that couldn’t possibly be put back together.

There was the slam of the door and the start of a car engine. There was the rustling of clothing and the stomping of feet, the door slamming again soon after.

Dean was numb, his ears buzzed, and his head fuzzed. He couldn’t feel anything and the only thought running through his head was that his brother hated him. His brother thought he was disgusting, couldn’t stand his touch.

He sat on the edge of one of the beds and put his face in his hands.

Sammy was leaving. Sammy _left_ them.

Sammy hated him.

And he felt a part of him die inside.

*

It wasn’t until it was late into the night, past the closing time of the bars, that John came back stumbling in. Dean was awake when he heard the door, sleeping light before he just decided to stare at the wall. The older hunter fumbled around for a few minutes before he crawled into bed with Dean.

He smelled the alcohol wafting from him.

Dean closed his eyes and rolled into John, curling against his chest and pressing his face underneath his chin. John held him close and pressed his face into the crown of the young man’s head, breathing in his scent with a shaky breath.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.”

* * *

John became distant, but Dean clung to what they had because it was the only thing keeping him going most days. He didn’t let John get too far and they eventually fell back into some sense of normalcy.

Neither spoke about how sometimes John would go to check on Sam if they were close to the university.

And neither spoke about how sometimes Dean would call Sam’s phone and leave a message when it went straight to voicemail.

* * *

“Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been back in a few days.” The seriousness in his tone, the way he emphasized his words made what Dean said and meant very clear.

This wasn’t something he expected and Sam couldn’t keep the shock out of his face. Standing in his kitchen was his older brother with a casual cockiness that anyone who didn’t know him.

But the look in his eyes behind it was what made him pause. Behind the cockiness was a weariness and worry that instead of immediately feeling the urge to fight Sam wanted to just hug his brother.

Sam missed him. He missed his brother and the regret bubbled up to his throat about how he treated him before he disappeared to Harvard.

Jess looked between the two of them, confused as to the change Sam’s posture.

“Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside.”

And the relief on Dean’s face that he quickly hid squeezed at Sam’s heart.


End file.
